Page 6 of Claimed Highland Brides

5

AWKWARD MOMENTS

H is tongue in her mouth was a sensation of immediacy she had never before experienced. It was as if she could feel his tongue over every inch of her body even as it grappled with hers. She wanted to savor the taste of him, relish the feel of him, and swallow the scent of him in her mouth. She could not believe the hunger that consumed her. It seemed to appear from thin air.

In fear and terror of her own emotions, she jerked back, away from him, stumbling backward and almost tripping on her bags. Not a moment too soon, because as she tried to steady herself, the door opened and Julieta stepped in followed by the small boy they had met in the kitchen doorway. “I managed tae get some brose pudding,” she announced triumphantly before coming to an abrupt halt as her eyes fell on Daividh. “Oh, I beg yer pardon. I dinnae see ye there.”

He bowed. “It is I who should ask for forgiveness. I shall be leaving now. Dinnae be fashit, I shall spend the night outside yer door so that ye’ll be safe.” He narrowed his eyes at Fiona as he spoke, making his words not so much a promise as a threat.

“We thank ‘e.” Fiona even went so far as to curtsy prettily. Daividh narrowed his eyes further at that display but simply nodded jerkily and shuffled out of the room, shoulders straight, eyes burning. Fiona watched him go as she tried to stop the heaving of her bosom. The little boy placed the tray of food on the bedside stand and walked out after receiving a penny from Julieta, who then closed the door. She whirled to face Fiona, eyes wide. “What happened? What did ye do?”

“I…” Fiona shook her head helplessly. “I dinnae ken.”

“What does that mean?”

“I weel...he was scolding me and then…” She gestured helplessly at nothing.

“What does that mean?”

“I dinnae ken.”

Julieta sighed, shaking her head. “I hope ye ken what ye’re doing, my dear. Now come and eat. Ye said ye were hungry.”

Any appetite that Fiona had had was gone. Nevertheless, she crossed to the table, picked up the bowl, and began to eat the pudding. Julieta watched her anxiously for a while before nodding in satisfaction. “Guid lassie. We shall eat and sleep. Tomorrow is soon enough to contend wi’ all this.” She waved her hands about to indicate the entire situation. Fiona tried to smile her agreement but could not quite manage it over the lump of fear in her throat. She kept her head down and ate the food quickly before crossing over to the armoire and washing her face and hands in the basin.

“D’ye think I could have a bath? I feel quite…” She trailed off, not knowing how to articulate the feeling of itching beneath her skin that she could not quite get rid of.

“I shall ask,” Julieta said. She crossed to the door and opened it to find Daividh laying across the doorway. She uttered a squeak of surprise and jumped back as Daividh sat up. “Did ye want tae gang somewhere?” he asked, his eyes still narrowed.

“Uh...Miss Douglass would like some water tae bathe. I wanted tae get it frae her from the kitchen.”

Daividh got to his feet. “Stay here. I’ll get it.”

* * *

Donnchadh woke up with a shiver, and his limbs felt as cold as if a ghost had walked over his grave. He tried to shake the feeling off but it persisted.

Daividh was not there yet.

I hope nothing is wrong.

There were a lot of things in his life going awry, but this feeling felt almost like a warning of coming disaster. He wandered through his castle, watching as its residents scurried about, tending to the gardens, sweeping the courtyards, cooking, washing, or sparring together. Narrowing his eyes, he stood on his balcony and tried to fathom what was amiss. A footfall, emanating from behind him, startled him, and he whirled around to see Laird Hunter gazing at him with a raised eyebrow.

He stiffened with surprise and then tried to cover it up by huffing in annoyance. "Why must ye sneak up on me like a thief?"

Laird Hunter laughed silently. "Mayhaps ye should learn tae stay alert mo charaid ."

Donncadh narrowed his eyes at the slight but made no attempt to rejoinder. "What d'ye want then?"

"I was simply wondering where my bride is? Should she no be here by now?"

The other laird’s frown deepened. "It isnae yet three days."

"Today is the third day!"

"Well then, ’tis not over yet. Ye can complain at supper."

Laird Hunter moved closer, his breath fanning over McCormick's face. "Dinnae act as if ye have nothing tae lose, Donnchadh," he rasped, voice low and menacing as he bit off his fellow laird’s name.

Donnchadh’s face paled as he took a step back from Laird Hunter. "Nae need frae such threats, Padraig. Ah'm sure they will arrive in good time."

The other laird wagged a finger in his face. “Ye dinnae want to ken what will happen if’n they don’t.”

Donnchadh nodded, turning away. Although he put on a brave face, he was just as perturbed at the delay as his companion. He had given the warrior three days because it took a day and a half on a fast horse to ride to Braenaird Keep and back. He had reckoned that traveling with a woman might take longer, but still, he had afforded them twice the required time to return.

So where are you ?

He shuffled back to his chambers, Padraig’s words still ringing in the back of his mind. He did not trust that the other laird would keep his secret even if he got his wish and married Fiona. He just did not seem to be the kind of man not to hold such a piece of information over Donnchadh’s head until the day he died.

He tried to think about how he could resolve this problem with the most minimal of casualties but he kept being tripped up by the fact that if he was to do that, the only solution would be to confess to his transgressions himself. Much as he hated to face this fact about himself, Donnchadh had to admit to cowardly feelings at the thought of standing in front of Murdo Douglass’s daughters and confessing to them...

No. I can’t do it.

He got to his feet and headed determinedly to his study. He wrote a note and handed it to one of his footmen. “Have a rider set out at once, on the fastest horse we have. I want a reply by tomorrow. This is imperative.” He added a glare to emphasize how serious he was.

The footman nodded. “Aye, sir. It shall be done.” He snatched the note and hurried off towards the stables where several messengers were waiting, horses groomed, fed, and watered, ready to ride at a moment’s notice.

The footman skidded to a stop. “Anndrais! I have an urgent note frae ye.”

A diminutive man with straw-colored hair turned, his inquisitive green eyes trained on the footman. “Where to?”

“Braenaird Castle. Ye’re tae gang after Campbell an’ find oot wha’s keeping him.” The footman held out the note to Anndrais, whose eyebrows were raised all the way up to his hairline.

“How d’ye ken wha’ the note says?”

The footman shrugged. “The McCormick’s been expectin’ Campbell’s return all day. Then he sends ye to Braenaird? It isnae difficult tae guess.”

Anndrais reached for the note, tucked it in his belt, and mounted his horse. “Aye then, I’m gang.” He spurred the horse and took off at a good speed. The footman watched until Anndrais had disappeared around the bend before he returned to report to Laird McCormick that the message was on its way.

Donnchadh nodded with relief. “Excellent. Alert me as soon as ye’ve got a reply.”

“Aye, sir.”

Donnchadh spent the rest of his day dodging Padraig. He knew that sooner or later he would have to answer to the other laird, but the truth was that he had none and so would avoid confronting that reality for as long as he could.

Instead, he was assailed by memories of how exactly he had gotten to this point. He had met Murdo Douglass when they were both thirteen years old. Even though they were cousins by marriage, they had never had the occasion to meet before. That year, they spent time with Donnchadh’s father, participating in raiding parties, sowing their wild oats, and learning about the role they would both have to take up in the future: that of laird.

Murdo was a fast learner and tended to show Donnchadh up. He did not mind though, because Murdo was good about sharing his spoils. It almost made him not want to come out on top at any time because then he might have to contemplate sharing with his cousin or looking like a selfish donkey’s arse.

Murdo was a force of nature and he had decided that Donnchadh would be his particular friend. The laird choked as he recalled a strange conversation they’d had the day before Murdo was scheduled to go back home to Braenaird Keep.

It was raining quite heavily and they were in the loft of the barn, lounging about in the hay, both feeling rather sad at the impending departure.

“I suppose our fathers will expect us tae wed now, eh?” Donnchadh had said sadly. He did not really like the lassies all that much but marriage was what came next once one became a man.

“I expect sae,” Murdo said thoughtfully. “Although I wager I am nae ready frae tha’. I want to go off to university first.”

Donnchadh sat up and stared down at his friend. “University? D’ye want tae gang tae England or across the Channel?”

“Across the Channel. I heard that French lassies are nae sae innocent as Scottish ones.”

Donnchadh laughed. “Ah, sae ye havenae finished sowing yer wild oats then?”

Donnchadh shrugged nonchalantly. “Mebbe they willnae be sae wild. Mebbe I will come back wi’ a French bride.”

“Ohh, so ye dinnae want a Scottish lassie for yer bride? What will yer da say tae that?”

Murdo laughed. “He isnae the one who will choose frae me, so I suppose he’ll say nothing.”

Donnchadh sighed. “My faither awready has a lassie frae me. We are tae wed once she turns sixteen.”

“Mmm. Then ye have some time.”

“Aye.”

They lay in silence, just contemplating their diverse futures before Murdo sat up. “Come on then, the horse stalls willnae muck themselves oot.”

Donnchadh sighed with resignation. Murdo was just too conscientious for his own good. Nevertheless, he followed the other boy down to the stables where they each took a rake and began to clean the horses’ stalls. They had four beasts currently stabled. Bucephalus, who had just foaled and so was corralled away from the rest, nursing her new calf. Man o’ War was an old horse, put out to pasture. The laird made good trade with him, as he was a thoroughbred and his seed was much sought after. He was an ornery old horse and did not like high-pitched voices. The laird always warned the lassies to stay away from him. Whisky was a feisty horse, newly broken-in, that was not allowed to leave his stall unsupervised. The boys were endlessly fascinated with him and were therefore not supposed to go anywhere near him. Naturally, of course, that was the first place they headed.

Donnchadh reached up tentatively, holding out an apple in his open palm.

“Ye should get awa’ frae that horse. Ye remember wha’ he did tae Jones twa days ago?”

Donnchadh ignored him and took a step closer. The horse stall had a simple bar across it to enable the boys to muck it out without going in. All they had to do was reach as far as they could and rake out the manure after spreading a heap of hay in front of Whisky to distract him.

Murdo busily lugged the hay bale over while Donnchadh tried to tempt the horse.

Suddenly Whisky kicked out and Donnchadh’s vision whited out. He collapsed on the floor, both hands cupping his groin, and rolled around in pain.

He heard running footsteps and then Murdo was there, pulling him away from the horse, who seemed to be lifting his leg back for another go at Donnchadh.

He knew he was agitating the horses with his screaming but he could not stop.

Murdo awkwardly lifted him and lugged Donnchadh over his shoulder like a sack. He shuffled out of the barn into the pouring rain and shuffle-ran towards the kitchens.

At some point, Donnchadh passed out from the pain and when he came to, he was lying in a cot, as the old sawbones, Mr. Cartwright, loomed over him.

“We may have tae cut it off or risk gangrene,” he was saying to Donnchadh’s anxious mother.

“But...will he be able to have bairns if ye do tha’?”

The sawbones sighed. “He may well die if’n I dinnae do it.”

* * *

They rode out early the next morning in tense silence. Daividh was still fuming and Fiona was sulking. Julieta tried to start a conversation but no one responded to her overtures. Eventually, she gave up and began to sing as they rode. Fiona glanced at her, brow furrowed with puzzlement. She bit her lip to stop herself from smiling and looked away. It was a nice sunny day, the sky cloudless and blue, a pleasant breeze ensuring they didn’t get overheated as they rode. Daividh rode ahead of them, his head held high, back stiff, strong broad shoulders straight. In spite of her best efforts, Fiona’s eyes stayed glued to his proud countenance.

Julieta kept turning her head to consider Fiona, a wry smile on her face. Fiona would catch her at it and frown with disapproval before her eyes were inevitably drawn back to Daividh. She wanted to ask him about the man she was slated to marry. Did Daividh know him? Was he a good man? How did he look?

Can he hold a candle to you ?

Fiona dismissed the thought with a snort. She had barely known the warrior for two days, and had spent most of that in conflict with him. It was true that Daividh was an imposing figure, with a strong presence. Of course he left a lasting impression on her. That did not mean that he was some sort of god to be worshipped. Undoubtedly, her future husband was a man of worth. Her uncle Donnchadh would make sure of it. She knew for a fact that he doted on her.

He would have chosen someone who would protect not just her but her sisters as well. With her father’s death, they were all vulnerable...and that was the reason she’d chosen this path. Love was a fine thing, but it was ephemeral. Her sisters were living, breathing beings who now relied on her for their safety and care. She could not let them down.

With a huge sigh, she turned to face the other way, to keep him out of her sight. They were riding past a small loch, whose surface was so clear it reflected the trees above, making it look as if the world was upside down. It was appropriately surreal. She sighed, shaking her head to get rid of the dizziness invoked by staring too hard into the lake.

“Is something the matter?” A deep baritone broke the silence and she jumped in shock. She had not been aware that he was even paying the slightest bit of attention to her.

“Nae. Just...lost in the scenery.”

“Aye. ’Tis fit to be painted.”

Her shock increased at his words. She would not have imagined that a soldier such as he would even recognize the artistic beauty of the landscape before them.

“Uh...ye’re right. I was marveling at how dreamlike it is. Preternatural almost.”

He turned to her and smiled indulgently. “Ye’re imagination is fantastical.”

She narrowed her eyes at him in remembered annoyance. “Are ye mocking me?”

Daividh turned to look in her face, his own blank and innocent-looking. “Why would I do tha’?”

“Because ye’re a Jessie!”

Daividh threw back his head and laughed. “Is that so? What would that make ye then? Ye’re the gowk who ran off wi’out any protection.”

“I dinnae run off! I went frae a walk!”

“Aye, and ye couldnae do me the courtesy of informin’ me why?”

Julieta rode between them. “Gentleman, lady, will ye stop scrauching afore someone hears? This isnae very becoming o’ ye both.”

Both of them turned to glare at her and she hunched her shoulders. “Forgive me but ye were getting very loud.”

They both deflated, simultaneously turning away from each other. Fiona returned to staring at the lake while Daividh looked stiffly ahead. Julieta sighed with resignation.

* * *

Anndrais came to a stop at the gates of Braenaird Keep, looking up at the silent castle with trepidation. There was no guard at the gate to let him in and nothing and nobody stirred in the courtyard. He surveyed the gate critically, wondering if he should climb it.

Suddenly the front door opened and a rotund woman emerged, marching to the gate to peer up at him on his horse as if he were a recalcitrant child. “Who are ye and what d’ye seek here?” she demanded of him.

He cleared his throat nervously. “I am Anndrais from Dunavar Castle. I come with a message for Miss Fiona Douglass from her uncle, Laird Donnchadh McCormick.”

“Fiona? Did he no send someone tae fetch her?” Her voice became higher with every word.

Anndrais raised his hand to forestall her hysteria. “Indeed, he did. He just wanted tae find oot what’s keeping them?”

The woman’s frown deepened. “They left here just yesterday. Surely the laird can have some patience?”

Anndrais’s shoulders slumped with relief. “Which road did they use? The west or south road?”

“They went west.”

Anndrais nodded. “Och, that explains why I dinnae encounter them as I rode.”

“Aye weel, they’re likely tae reach Dunavar afore ye find them.”

Anndrais alighted from his horse. “Would ye spare a cup of water frae a weary traveler? I have been riding without stopping.”

The woman dug a large set of keys from her pockets and opened the gate. “’Tis late. The sun is aboot tae set. Ye’re welcome to our hospitality frae the night if ye want.”

Anndrais nodded and smiled, as he led his horse into the courtyard. “I thank ‘e.”

* * *

An hour of quiet, tense riding later, Fiona, Daividh, and Julieta stopped for lunch. Daividh had made sure to pack enough provisions for himself and one other. Luckily, at the inn, Julieta had made sure to pack extra bread and butter for the road. They sat down to a feast of dried grouse, dried figs, bread, butter, and ale. After lunch they lay beneath a tree to rest.

Fiona chose the north side of the tree while Daividh moved away, seating himself on a rock and staring off towards the horizon. Julieta exhaled loudly and rolled her eyes. Crossing over to the horses, she picked up a large canteen from Daividh’s saddlebag and marched to the lake.

“Ey!” Daividh called, half getting to his feet. “What are ye doing?”

Julieta ignored him, skidding down to the water’s edge and dipping the canteen inside. Daividh subsided, thinking that she was simply filling the canteen for the journey. He was surprised when she marched back up to them and headed straight to him. His brow furrowed as he watched her approach him, eyes narrowed in trepidation.

He shouted in shock when she upended the entire canteen on his head.

“Ye’ll stop wi’ the huffing and puffing. Ye’re no a dragon. Even if ye were, I have doused yer flames. Now can ye be pleasant frae the rest of the day?”

Daividh was spluttering in shock as he wiped the water from his face and hair while Fiona stood behind Julieta, laughing uproariously. Julieta whipped around to face her, brandishing the canteen. “And ye!”

Fiona stumbled backward, holding out her hands in surrender. “Nae, nae, please no’ me.” She was still laughing even as she scrambled out of range.

“Will ye behave yersel’?” Julieta demanded, still brandishing the canteen.

“Aye, I will.” Fiona grinned. “Now put the canteen back on th’ horse.”

Julieta marched over to Daividh’s stallion and placed the canteen back in the saddlebag as Daividh and Fiona eyed each other warily. Then Fiona pulled out her white kerchief and waved it. “Truce?”

Daividh laughed, reaching out to grab the kerchief and fold it. “Truce,” he agreed.

As they resumed their journey, Fiona and Daividh rode side by side. He regaled her with stories of his travels as a sellsword, as she listened, rapt.

“Once I worked for one o’ the Fraser lads. He was determined tae make a name frae himself among his many brothers. He had us out raiding the northern Campbells, who were my kin. I had tae cover up my face in case they kenned me.” Daividh shook his head ruefully.

“Did ye have tae raid them? Could ye no have declined?”

“Ach! What kind of sellsword would I have been if’n I refused tae fight? Scotland isnae that big. Sooner or later, I was gang tae go up against a body I kenned.” He shrugged. “At least my family dinnae like them much.” He grinned at her and she returned it, though she was shaking her head in disbelief.

“And does my uncle have ye gang on many raids?”

“Och nae. All he has me doing is fetching wayward nieces.”

Fiona snorted.